Latent
by 0Say.Please0
Summary: A story about not being a veela...and it's rather dramatic consequences for one Draco Malfoy. Veelafic, creaturefic, HP/DM


**Disclaimer: This is all J.K. Rowlings**

_**Author's Note: **Hello, all. Honestly, this story is something I wrote for myself, so I'm sorry if this isn't a work of art. If you really feel the need to be my beta, you can always ask. Also, I know my genetics aren't exactly spot on(I've taken a few Biology classes), but as I said this story is purely for my own entertainment, so what goes, goes._

_Anyway, here it is. My veela story. :) Enjoy!_

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Draco Malfoy stared at his reflection. He gaped. He squinted. He shut one eye. He glared. This was all wrong. This wasn't possible. The mirror had to be broken. He kicked it. "God fucking piece of shit!" he growled. "Fucking work!" His image didn't change.

"Don't deny reality, sweetheart," the mirror said, clucking.

"Oh, shut the hell up," Draco Malfoy snapped, jabbing his wand at it to make it quiet. He collapsed back onto his bed. "Shit. Shitshitshitshit_shit_." This was not good at all.

Today was his twenty-first birthday. Today was the day in which the veela gene, passed down through the Malfoy family nearly as long as magic had, was _supposed_ to express itself. And it hadn't.

At least...he didn't think it had. He had no wings, no increase in attractiveness (not that he needed it of course), no desire to tear Diagon Alley apart looking for a mate. Nothing.

There was a light knock on the door. Draco froze. His father was coming in. His father was going to come in and know that Draco had failed in one of the most paramount Malfoy traditions of all time.

Pretty much, Draco Malfoy was fucked.

Another knock. "Draco?"

Draco closed his eyes. "You may come in, Father," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"You may come in, Father," Draco said, louder this time.

The door opened.

"You really must learn to speak up, dear," his mother's tittering voice began. "It's quite un-"

Silence. Narcissa Malfoy backed out of the room.

"Get up, Draco." His father's voice was low and uncompromising.

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes and stood. Lucius Malfoy stared at him with horror in his eyes. "Father," he whispered.

"What have you done?"

"I-I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry? This is a disgrace!" His father's eyes narrowed. "I should have expected this from you."

Draco lifted his chin. "I don't see how any of this is _my _fault. It's not like I can change my genes!"

"You think you're the first Malfoy that's not naturally been a Veela in the past hundreds of years? Dear, God, Draco! Have you read anything of the books I gave you? If there are no signs of expression before the twenty-first birthday, there is a spell that will make sure it is expressed."

"Signs? Spells? What-what do you mean?" Draco spluttered.

"Your ignorance astounds me, and in this particular case, your arrogance astounds me! Do you care nothing for our family history? Could you not even put in the effort to read a book?"

Shame filled Draco. "I-I'm sorry. I-I just...you made it seem that...I thought that there was no way I could _not _be a Veela." He bowed his head. "Please...forgive me."

His father levitated the books from Draco's shelf over to him. "Here," he snarled. "Read this while I try to figure out what the hell we're going to do." Lucius turned around and stormed out the room, his long, greying hair swirling about him.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

How could he have been so stupid? Draco leaned back in his chair, dropping _Our Veelan Heritage _to the floor. Why hadn't he just done what his father had told him?

There was a sharp crack as one of the house elves-Draco couldn't tell which one-apparated into the room.

"What?" he asked tiredly.

"Sorry, sir. Master be needing you downstairs at once, sir," trembled the elf.

"Fine."

Draco slumped downstairs. When he reached his father's study, he leaned in the doorway. "Sir."

"Come in, Draco," his father said, his eyes glinting.

Draco walked in and sat down beside his father.

His father slammed an open book in front of him. "Look for any name familiar. _Any_ name."

And so Draco and his father searched for hours. Finally, Draco sighed, "Look, there's nothing familiar at all. Besides, there's no-."

"Here," his father grunted.

"What?" Draco looked over his father's shoulder. _Marciana Potter. Francus Potter...Potter...Potter...Harry Potter. _"Ugh. Potter? What is this book any-?"

His father gripped his arms. "Harry Potter has the gene."

"What are you talking about? What gene?" Draco spluttered.

"He carries the veela gene, and it's recent. Far more recent than ours." Lucius Malfoy shook him. "You must find him. Befriend him. Attract him. It's the only way. If he chooses you, then your own latent gene may be triggered."

"Chooses me? What?"

"As your mate."

"My mate! I _hate _Potter, father. I've always hated him. And I'm not gay either! I like _breasts. _I love them!"

His father simply said, "You have until July thirty-first."

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_I feel a little silly now. Review if you want :)_


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